


A Matter of Opinion

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Castiel is Jimmy Novak's Brother, Castiel is not amused, Cute Castiel, English Teacher Dean, Fist Bumps For The Win, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Middle School, Oh yeah and Dean Wears Makeup, Sassy Claire, Teacher Dean, Young Claire, history teacher sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “I wish my students weren’t as perceptive sometimes.”Cas is silent for a moment, then ducks his head before saying, “Just so you know, this exercise of yours is impossible: I find a hard time seeing anything bad about you, Dean.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whaattttt's this? Two posts in one day?! Unheard of!
> 
> I honestly have no explanation as to what came over me, but enjoy. You guys deserve it. <3

 

“Not all at once, guys,” Dean laughs. The joke falls flatter than a tire hitting a rusty nail on two-lane blacktop. He parks himself on an empty desk in the front row and sighs. “C’mon, where’re my Chatty Cathies at? Krissy, Ennis, you two seem to have a lot to say when you get your tests back.”

Garth, a scrawny kid sporting the persona of a class clown minus the red ball nose, raises his hand. “Mr. Winchester, is this a therapeutic technique? By law, no teacher is allowed to employ a psychological evaluation unless it’s within their intended scope of practice. It’s illegal.”

And he’s also majoring in law. “No, Garth. This is an open and honest forum. Think of it as a message board... or a YouTube comments page.” Dean pauses. “Just keep it school-appropriate.”

“Message boards can be hacked,” Aidan, the corduroy-wearing tech jock, throws out. “How do we know you won’t tell Principal McLeod?”

“Principal McLeod has his own problems… like his collection of Hawaiian shirts.” The class breaks into laughter. Dean gestures around the room with a broad grin. “See, guys, it’s fun. Now you try. Roast me.”

Krissy’s the first to speak: “Newsflash, Mr. Winchester, only losers fist bump other losers, and I’m no loser.”

A few scattered laughs. Dean shrugs. “No worries, I’ll just stick with being a boring old English teacher until I hit my fifties.”

“Wait, you mean you’re not old already?” Ennis chimes. “Those wrinkles around your eyes had me fooled.”

After that, they come one after the other, as natural as a river flows:

“O Captain, My Captain, your shifty deadlines are making me seasick.”

“Clever incorporation of classic literature, Lucas. Becky, did you have—?” Becky blinks, and, from left to right, her eyelids reveal: Sam’s/girl. Sam is Dean’s little brother, the US History teacher in the building down the hall. Dean clears his throat, “ _Okay,_ Callie?”

“You give Belle a run for her money with those Disney princess eyes.” Callie tosses a wink to Becky across the room, who bursts into giggles. Dean rescues the situation by moving onto another male classmate:

“You have more paint on your face than Jeff Hardy,” Michael laughs.

“If you must know,” Dean interrupts, “I wear foundation. Is that a crime?”

“Hey, who’s roasting who here?” Alex, Sheriff Mills’ daughter, chirps.

Dean throws his arms up. “Sorry. Carry on.”

“How much glue does it take for your hair to stick up like that?”

“Really, flannel? You know the nineties are over, right?”

“What’s with all the obscure movie references?” Claire pipes in her leather-jacket, heavy eyeliner glory. Even her blonde hair’s rebellious the way it’s slipping out of her ponytail. If anyone’s going to slay a pop quiz _and_ a roast, it’s her. “Are you just _that_ out of touch, Old Man?”

The classroom commends her, thankfully, because a man in a puffy beige trench coat steps through the door.

Replacing Claire’s triumphant smirk is a horrified gasp.

Dean recognizes him from PTAs as Castiel, Claire’s uncle.

“What’s going on here?” Castiel demands, arms crossed amongst the dead silence.

“Cas, it’s not what you—”

“Claire, let me speak to your teacher— _old man to old man.”_

Dean excuses himself to speak to Castiel outside. Once they’re behind the door, Dean chuckles nervously, “Mr. Novak, I’m sorry you had to witness that, Claire was just—”

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Castiel says, and holy rollers, Dean forgot about those eyes. Lucas was talking about feeling seasick; Dean’s getting that staring into Castiel’s dark blues too long. “It’s a good thing Jimmy sent me to take Claire out early, because now I see her attitude hasn’t improved. It’s probably all those James Dean movies and those rap documentaries—”

Dean stifles a laugh, “Wait, slow down, Mr. Novak—”

“Please, call me Cas. Misters are for sinners.”

Dean can’t be sure if that’s a flirtation or just Mr. Novak’s—Cas’s—persona, so he continues on, determined to reach his point without blushing like a complete idiot: “Claire wasn’t intentionally rude towards me. In fact, she’s one of the nicest kids in my eighth grade English class.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “Intentionally? But, what she said—“

“I told her to say it,” Dean says. “We’re doing an exercise for an argumentative essay, I’m having the kids go around and tell me their open and honest opinion about me. Most of it is bad, but that’s okay. I have tough skin… underneath all the foundation, that is.” Dean cringes. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Cas bites back a grin. “I experimented with eyeshadow in my early twenties.”

“Seriously?!” Dean blurts, chuckling.

“Oh, you bet,” Cas affirms. “I wore it every day for a whole month, and no one even noticed the difference.”

“I wish my students weren’t as perceptive sometimes.”

Cas is silent for a moment, then ducks his head before saying, “Just so you know, this exercise of yours is impossible: I find a hard time seeing anything bad about you, Dean.”

Dean can’t help it; he breaks into a blush that consumes most of his face. “Well, um, I better let you two get a move on.”

“Oh yeah, her mom. my sister-in-law, is in the hospital. She’s been in a coma for quite some time, but I got the call that she woke up last night.”

Dean’s eyes bulge a little at that. “Oh, wow. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

Cas smiles a little. “Yeah, it’s been hard on all of us. And believe me, you’ve done enough. However, if you’re free tomorrow night…” Cas tapers off upon hearing muffled snickers from behind Dean. “What’s that?”

“My kids listen into my conversations,” Dean says. Cas blushes.

“Sorry, I’m probably being really inappropriate, just forget I—”

Dean laughs, curtailing Cas’s qualms, “My schedule’s clear on Friday. That is, if yours is.”

Cas nods as a broad smile unfolds from his plush pink lips. It’s gummy and white, and the many ways he’s thinking about kissing them aren’t school-appropriate. “Most definitely.”

“Fist-bump on it?” Dean asks.

Cas’s eyebrows furrow for a second, then he laughs, and fist-bumps Dean.

 

 

And although it’s a matter of opinion, despite Krissy’s firm belief, fist-bumps are still in.


End file.
